


Haywire

by arpita



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Gen, This Is STUPID, Tumblr Prompt, What Have I Done, and long, like really long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpita/pseuds/arpita
Summary: Bhallaladeva makes a gift for Amarendra Baahubali on his wedding night. Though he doesn't put much thought into it, yet the gift is the result of a particularly long line of contemplations.Prompt by: @carminavulcanaDespite the bitterness that now colours their relationship, the ghost of brotherly love is hard to get rid of. Bhalla's wedding present for Amarendra.Sorry Ankur, this got longer than I'd thought. :(
Relationships: Amarendra Baahubali & Bhallaladeva, Amarendra Baahubali/Bhallaladeva, Amarendra Baahubali/Sivagami
Comments: 15
Kudos: 15





	Haywire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarminaVulcana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarminaVulcana/gifts), [thelonewolfwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonewolfwrites/gifts), [Inkn1ght1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkn1ght1/gifts).



Bhalla hates the dichotomy of his psyche. 

At least, this was the part where his Father had been absolutely clear about. 

Bijjaladeva  _ hated  _ Vikramadeva, for all intents and purposes. And hence, he loathed everyone, and everything associated with his late brother of two and a half decades. 

Well… everything except-

- **_The Throne of Maahishmati._ **

Surprisingly enough, that just wasn’t the case with Bhallaladeva. Which, of course, wasn’t in any way _indicative_ of any harmony that he harboured towards his brother. He did **_not_** like Baahubali, and no one, not even the acrimonious bumbling buffoon of his Father could know that little factoid.

_ Spite could never be explicit _ , that was yet another platitude he had taught himself over the years, by way of a derivative of the virtue of patience, which had come to fruition, after all. 

He had hidden his rancour, made a very lethal instrument out of his father’s venom, and has used it extremely effectively to serve himself.

Baahubali,  _ -correction-  _ **_the infallible, Amarendra Baahubali_ ** , was now stripped of his prospective Kingship, over -  **_what he considered to be_ ** \- a squabble over cosmic duties, and other metaphysical, yet irrelevant concepts of pride, and honour, for a chit of a Princess from a minuscule Kingdom like Kuntala, with the Queen Mother. And well, he could trust his own Mother to act on her pompous ferocity, while refusing to bend her will over some audacious, prejudiced Princess. 

And now, he, Bhallaladeva, was the King. 

_ Ha! What a victory! _ , he mused, the moment Sivagami had pronounced Baahubali’s sentence. 

He couldn’t help but marvel at the feat he had achieved while pulling the strings, all the time. But then-

- **_Today was not the day for gloating over past victories._ **

_ Truth be told, there were many such instances, when Bhalla sorely missed his brother, His Baahu. The Baahu he could fall back on, the Baahu, who loved him unconditionally, the Baahu, who could lay his life down for his conniving cousin, in an instant. _

_ The Friend he had, the Brother he always wanted, the intended object of his fraternal affections.- _

_ - _ **_Things could not be simple with him. They just couldn’t_ ** _. _

This is where Bhalla was envious of Baahu. His ever-righteous, pristine cousin had everything sorted. He was an undeniably good human who deserved what he got, be it The Crown, the affections of their foolhardy Mother, the adulation of their subjects, or Devasena, for that matter. Heaven knew, the man needed someone more reasonable than Sivagami Devi by his side. There was nothing wrong with him.

And even amidst such intense adversity, he hadn’t cowered, which was  **_-annoyingly-_ ** admirable. He had left his Princely Quarters for a humbler residence in far smaller Quarters of their ministers, and army generals, now that he had been demoted to the position of the Chief Army Commander of Maahishmati, which had ended up making him an even greater champion of their people, much to Bhalla’s own chagrin.

But then, something whispers in him-

_ Isn’t he doing what he should? _ , the phantom of his conscience says, jeopardising him further.

Tired, Bhallaladeva looks out of his window. The warm lights of the periphery of Royal Quarters were aglow to the fullest. Bright, serene, yet exuberant, it seemed to hold an undefinable peace within itself, oblivious to the world that lay outside, as it lit jubilantly in commemoration of the wedding that it witnessed.

Sivagami had been anything but indifferent when the missive had carried the scroll to her chamber, that spoke of Baahu’s marriage to Devasena. She had held her blessing, - _ and her tears _ -back, while tossing it into the fire, that was now testimony to their vows of Saptapadi. 

Bijjaladeva had been beside himself with joy at his wife’s mental conflict, and he-

_ -Was now feeling deprived. _

In another time, he would have been by Baahu’s side, enjoying the whole panoply in his own manner. A Royal Wedding had its own attractions, albeit frivolous. Somehow, he liked the jokes the men made about the bridal night, and of course, the female attention that always came as a welcome bonus, with young, naive princesses, eyeing him, slyly and otherwise. The Soma was welcome too. After all, a little intoxication was a must, particularly when it was an occasion.

And of course, he solely missed the camaraderie he had unknowingly shared with Baahu. 

Bhalla closed his eyes, basking in the warmth that seemed to be a reminder of the good, old times.

\---

_ No one would ever know, _ Baahubali thought to himself.

On his bed, lay a goregeous, yet subtle, silk-bound volume of  _ Abhijñānaśākuntalam,  _ his favourite story from The Mahabharata. Not that Baahubali hadn’t known of it earlier, but then, having a volume like that, was just, - _ there was no other expression for it _ \- incredible.

Few knew of this particular preference of his. Their Mother most definitely didn’t.

But Bhalla did.

**_Only Bhalla did._ **

Amarendra softly felt the silk cover. Of course, it had to be from Jwalarajyam. Where else would he find such articulate subtlety of binding, on such delicate Afghani Silk.

And yes, there was no note.

_ So typical, _ he smiled to himself.

After all, Bhalla wasn’t a man of many words, he had to admit. And he was unpredictable. 

_ And here, stood the proof, in his fingers. _

Somewhere, in the Palace of Maahishmati, a conflicted man’s soul found some consolation for being present at his brother’s wedding, however implicit his presence might have been.


End file.
